


Things You Said When You Thought I Was Asleep

by essequamvideri24



Category: The White Princess (TV), The White Queen (TV), Winter King: Henry VII and the Dawn of Tudor England - Thomas Penn
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:57:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essequamvideri24/pseuds/essequamvideri24





	Things You Said When You Thought I Was Asleep

There was a pop and a snap, a flash of sparks and a warm glow of ember, and the heavy log tumbled from the station where it had been propped up to languish now in the heart of the fire. Blue flames licked at it’s ashen belly as golden tongues consumed and singed the bark of the far side.

But these sounds did not compare to the din raised on the carpet at her feet.

It was Christmastime, and a frigid one at that. Outside the bottle-bottom window, and skewed by the uneven glass, the Thames had frozen over. Little Hal had begged to cross it, if not on his pony then on foot. Arthur had laughed at his brother’s foolishness, “Why, what sort of a devil would have to possess our father for him to agree to such an escapade?”

At Elizabeth’s behest, and before the snows had come, the children had been sent for from Ludlow and Eltham. Henry had called it his gift to her, in facetious reluctance. It was with the same facetious reluctance that he had joined her and the children in her apartments that evening.

“I wonder what sort of mayhem I have acquiesced to this evening.” He had despaired when he had come to sit by her before the fire, while the children played. Edmund and Mary, the youngest, stayed closest to her skirts. The older children were less easy to contain.

It was, however, very soon that she found Henry slipping from the bench to the floor to join in with the children. Hal wanted his father to feel his muscles, while Margaret wanted him to hold still for her sketch (which proved to be impossible), and Mary had thrust her baby doll into his arms and demanded he soothe it. Her husband was right, with five children it was utter mayhem. But such intimate, informal, and complete family gatherings were rare. And as Lady Margaret had solemnly told her once, time with one’s family was precious.

After a while, when the darker hours had come and the children’s eyes had waned with exhaustion Henry had gathered them on the great bear skin rug, a gift from a far away kingdom. Arthur was the first to suggest a story, and Henry was only too willing.

Like most of his stories, Elizabeth was unable to ascertain the truth. Had such things really happened? Was this great King Arthur really Henry’s ancestor? Had such knights really existed? Where were the dragons today, or had they all died out long ago? Had England ever really been such a wild land? Or was it only Wales he spoke of?

The children dropped off one by one, each succumbing in time to the late hour. Edmund and Mary had faded fast, Hal was soon after, much as he fought it. Margaret and Arthur held on, blinking away sleep that beckoned, thought she saw each begin to nod off a time or two.

For her own part, there came a time when she closed her eyes and rested her chin on her chest. He had used to tell her stories all the time when they were new married, and like a child she had hung on his every word, his every description. He could, with his words and tone transport one to another time and place, the pictures and people he painted were so vivid.

When his voice grew soft she knew he was reaching the end, but she dared not open her eyes, she dared not break the spell that he had cast over her, over them all. She could still feel him, sitting on the floor by her feet, one shoulder leaning against her legs, the other against the bench. Then she felt his hand on her knee as he helped himself back up onto the bench. Beside her now he gently wound an arm about her shoulder and pulled her relax against him. “How blessed we are, Bess. Me most of all.” He whispered into her hair, kissing her crown of tawny tresses.


End file.
